


tis but a few drabbles

by safety_dancer



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Tim is weird but everyone loves him, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>collection of tumblr prompts and hcs-turned-drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tis but a few drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> mostly Tim-centric as a lot of these are from my side blog, swanqueenfeathers. enjoy :)

_deluminate said: Do you think anyone ever walked into the kitchen late at night or really early in the morning to find Tim passed out/fallen asleep leaning against the refrigerator door (mild snoring noises optional)?_

 

Damian probably would’ve tripped over the buffoon’s legs, unseeing as he was in the dark kitchen, if he hadn’t heard the snoring. He tsked in annoyance, flicking on the light over the sink–

And there was Drake, sprawled out on the floor and leaning against the refrigerator door, head lolling to the side in a very uncomfortable looking position. His mouth was open which was the cause of his snoring, and Damian grimaced at the little spot of drool dampening the teen’s sleep shirt.

“Drake,” he said in a harsh whisper, kneeling down to none-too-gently poke his finger into his brother’s rib cage. “Go to bed, you idiot.”

Tim made a high-pitched, annoyed whine in the back of his throat, sluggishly batting at Damian’s hand. “Stop pokin’ me,” he mumbled, cracking open his eyes blearily. “Tha’s rude.”

Damian snorted, standing and crossing his arms. “You fell asleep in the kitchen again, Drake. Go upstairs and sleep in an _actual bed_ , otherwise you’ll wake up with muscle cramps again, as you well know.”

Tim waved his hand dismissively, slowly pulling himself up, wincing at the pops and cracks of his joints. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’, don’t worry _Dad._ ”

**~***~**

_constellation-lion said: tim will be in really uncomfortable or unconventional positions all the time, like he's on his bed and his legs are on the mattress and his torso is on the floor or he is perched on the edge of the couch_

 

“Uhm, aren’t you gonna move?” Jason asks, staring with some concern at his strange little brother, who had contorted himself into a position that would put Nightwing to shame.

“Nah,” Tim replies easily, not even sparing Jason a glance, but kept his focus on the GameBoy in his hands.

“How are you even able to _breathe_ sitting like that?” Tim’s torso was all twisted and it looked honestly rather gruesome, like some mangled corpse or something. Jason wanted to cringe.

“I’m special,” is all Tim’s says, and Jason just shakes his head. His family was _weird._

**~***~**

_anon said: One time, I woke up for 72 hours until my friend swapped out my coffee shots with tea. She told me I began to babble incoherently about cats. I feel like this is a very tim thing to do._

 

“I– I think you’ve had enough caffeine, Drake,” Damian said slowly, reaching to carefully take the mug from Tim’s shaky grasp. Tim either didn’t realize his hands were empty or didn’t care. He just continued in his string of nonsensical words, eyes wide and looking too-big against the dark circles that hung underneath them.

“I don’t think cats like me,” Tim was saying, an expression of sheer sadness conorting his features. “They hiss and get all puffy and growly– like _you._ ” He looked like he had a sudden epiphany, staring at Damian with wild eyes. “You’re exactly like a cat.”

“Drake, you really should stop talking now and go to bed or something–”

Tim then started laughing, a quiet snicker that grew into loud guffaws. “Even when you glare at me like that, you’re like an angry kitty. All spiky and puffy and–” His laughter stopped abruptly, his gaze turning sad again as he looked at Damian, and the younger immediately felt an immense sense of _guilt_ , though he didn’t even _do_ anything.

“And you hate me too, just like cats,” Tim whispered, sounding horrified. Damian wanted to either run or remind the idiot that he wasn’t exactly Drake’s favorite person either.

“I don’t hate you,” he said instead, trying not to sound as _done_ as he felt.

“You don’t?” Tim perked up like an excited puppy and Damian was amazed at how fast he swtiched through emotions.

“Of course not, you imbecile.” Then, quieter: “I don’t know _why_ I tolerate you, especially in moments like this. You _freak._ ”

** ~***~ **

_saoirsewolf said: Tim talks to himself A LOT. It started from when his parents weren't there, and he's been doing it ever since. (All the talking to animals and inanimate objects makes me think that this might actually be canon.)_

 

“Five days?” Tim suddenly asked aloud, frowning down at the notepad in his lap, tapping his pencil thoughtfully against his knee. “I think we should go with that. Gives us time to prepare and time for me to get the paperwork done, right? Is that good?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bruce said slowly, giving Tim a look of confusion from his seat on the sofa across the teen.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Tim explained, waving his hand dismissively (which– rude).

“There’s… no one else in the room?”

“Huh– oh, I know. I was talking to myself.” _Duh_ , went unsaid but Bruce heard it in Tim’s tone. Like he was supposed to just _assume_ that Tim was talking to himself, because that was totally logical. _Duh, Bruce._

~*¤*~

“Okay, can you just– just _shut up_ for like, ten minutes? Please?”

Tim blinked dumbly up at Jason, fingers finally pausing in their incessant typing. “Uhm-”

“You’ve been like, chattering _non-stop_ for the past twenty minutes. To yourself. Which, by the way, is weird even for you. Just– _Shush._ ”

“But-”

“ _Shhhh no._ It’s quiet time.”

**~***~**

_anon said: hc that tim has a ton of whiteboards because he's proud of the work he does on them and doesn't want to erase it so he just keeps collecting more and more until someone else has to stage an intervention or maybe not im sorry if it's stupid_

 

“What does this all even _mean_ ,” Damian asked, gesturing vaguely to the collection of whiteboards that leaned against the far wall of Tim’s room.

“Depends on which one you’re pointing to,” Tim replied faintly, distracted as he scribbled something down something on another board that was all but unintelligible to anyone but himself. “Some have info about certain cases, some are for timetables for-”

“But why are you _keeping_ them all?” Damian interrupted, studying one board that had the date scrawled in the lower left corner– It was from two weeks ago.

“Oh, uhm. I spent so much time writing all this stuff down, I guess I don’t like just– Wiping it all away? I don’t know.”

Damian glanced at him, one eyebrow quirked, but surprisingly he didn’t offer any sarcasm or dry comment, for which Tim was grateful. Instead, all he said was, “You’re probably going to need another room to keep them all in, though. You can barely walk around in this cluttered mess.”


End file.
